


The Gifts of the Gods

by Sour_Idealist



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fantasy Theology, Ficlet, Flowers, Gen, Self-Image, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 21:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14434413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist
Summary: Nott gets Jester a present.





	The Gifts of the Gods

“Here,” Nott says, holding the flowers up to Jester. “Because you keep saving my life lately and I want you to keep doing it.”

“Thank you!” Jester says, clapping her hands. “These are beautiful – oh, are they not real flowers?”

“No,” Nott says. “It's almost winter, so I stole them off a hat. A very grumpy person's hat,” she adds hastily, when Mollymauk raises his eyebrows. The three of them are tucked into a corner of the bar, while the others all argue about something with Wessick the Trim.

“Those look like silk,” Molly says. “No one who has silk flowers deserves to keep them.”

“But that means I shouldn't keep them,” Jester says, clutching the little pink bouquet to her chest.

“You didn't spend money on them,” Molly says. “Anyway, I didn't say not to keep them, just that it's not a great injustice if someone steals them from _you._ ”

“Are you going to steal them, Molly?” Nott asks, a little dangerously. “I thought you didn't like it when we stole from each other.”

“What would I do with silk flowers?” Molly asks.

“You could put them in your hair,” Jester suggests, “or tie them to your horns, and then you'd be pretty.”

“I could do that,” he admits. “I should save Nott's life more often, then. I'm going to get a drink.” And with that, he's gone; he has a half-full tankard left on the table, which means he probably wants to go get in on the argument. Nott finishes his beer for him.

“Are you going to tie them into your hair, then?” she asks Jester.

“Maybe!” Jester holds them up to one horn. “How do I look?”

“Very nice,” Nott says honestly. Jester is always pretty; even humans think so, even though she doesn't look much like them. She could look human if she wanted – at least, she could look human a lot more often than she does, and she's tall enough to look a lot more human than Nott can – but she only bothers when they've got a specific plan. Never because she's tired of people looking at her.

“Would it be better if they were real flowers?” she asks. “They're hard to find, but I could try to do something –”

“You don't have to give me flowers for saving your life, Nott,” Jester interrupts her. “I'm _the cleric_.” She says it with her usual showiness, puffing out her chest; she drops the affectation and runs a finger along the edges of the delicate silk petals. “I don't want any of you to die. You're all my friends. I've never had friends before except the Traveler, and I don't need to worry about him. He's a god.”

“I've never had friends before either,” Nott says. “It was hard enough keeping just Caleb alive. Maybe I should be the cleric too, but... I don't think any of the gods would listen to me. At least, none I want to talk to.”

“The Traveler would listen to you!” Jester promises. “I know he would. I've already told him so much about you.”

“Oh, I don't know...”

“He would,” Jester says, and her voice is very solemn, suddenly. “He listens to people who don't have anyone else to talk to. And to people who are lonely. He told me that. He would listen to you.”

“Maybe, then,” Nott says. “But I really don't know. I'm very small, and gods are – very big. I don't know if I want anything that big to notice me.” She fidgets with Molly's tankard. “I'm glad you like the flowers.”

“I really do,” Jester says. “They look like something my mother would have. I think I'll put one in my hair, and keep the others in my pack in case something happens to the first one, and – actually, here.” She plucks a little artificial rosebud from the bundle. “I want you to keep this one.”

“Oh, thank you!” Nott takes it reverently, between both hands, as if she'll break it; which is silly, since she was carrying the whole bundle around before. But now it's a present. “I still have the other ones you gave me. I dried them. Should I... should I put it in my hair, too?”

“Yes!” Jester says. “You definitely should. Then we'll match.”

“I'd like that,” Nott says, fishing in her pouch. She has a bit of string; it only takes her a moment to braid the rose into her hair. “There. Do we match now?”

“We do,” Jester says, beaming. “You're pretty too.”

Either Jester is lying or she has very strange ideas, but, well, she sees hamster unicorns. She might actually believe it. And even if she's only lying to be kind – that's nice too. No one ever used to do that for Nott before, either.

 


End file.
